“Can you give me an example?”
“Sure. If Mike Brannigan took out a library book on poisons, that fact will go to the top of my list.”
“This is amazing.”
“Helpful, yes, extraordinary, maybe, but don’t expect the computer to solve the case for us. The computer’s a tool that’s going to give us masses of data. But it takes the human brain to take the data, analyze it and put the important pieces together.”
Suddenly the machine beeped. Ryker closed one screen and opened another. He frowned then turned to her with a tight expression on his lips.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your ISP came up empty.”
“You mean the police were mistaken about the altered e-mail on my computer?”
“There are possibilities. Either the hacker remembered to cover his tracks with your Internet provider and erased the data—”
“Or?”
“A hacker altered the e-mail on just your hard drive.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…that either way, we’re dealing with someone with above-average computer abilities.”
“Which means we can probably eliminate Shandra and Isabelle.” Glum, she leaned back in her chair. “So that leaves the rest of my employees, Sam, Jeanie and Cindy.”
“Mike Brannigan and your father, but even I don’t think your father poisoned Fallon and Peter.”
“Have you heard back from Logan Kincaid about Harry’s assignments?”
Ryker spun in his chair. “Let me check.” He struck a few keys. “Nothing yet. But I’m getting some early hits from the search engines.”
“Anything interesting?”
“So far Mike Brannigan’s clean. Sam doesn’t have a criminal record, but he has been arrested.”
“My bookkeeper, Sam? That’s hard to believe. Are you sure?”
“Apparently they suspected him of racketeering.”
“Sam?” She couldn’t believe it. He was just a college kid. “What’s racketeering?”
“It covers a wide range of white-collar criminal activity. We’ll ask him about it tomorrow.”
“We’re closed on Sundays.”
“Then we can pay him a visit.” He perused the data on the screen. “Cindy just bought a house. Put down a large down payment.”
“That’s odd.”
“Why?”
She stared at the numbers on the screen. “She didn’t say anything to me about it. And I don’t pay her enough for her to save that kind of down payment.”
“Maybe we should go talk to Cindy first. Didn’t you say she recently returned from a vacation near the greenhouse that burned down?”
“Yes, but—”
Ryker busily typed. “Her bank account shows a sudden hefty deposit made two weeks before Fallon’s death.”
“A payoff?” Or a coincidence? Daria had absolutely no idea.
“Some people will do anything for money. Even commit murder.”
CINDY PARKS LIVED in an apartment that she shared with two other twentysomething single females. Old and renovated, the building still smelled of dust despite the freshly painted walls and shiny floors.
As Ryker escorted Daria into the lobby and up on the elevator, he had difficulty keeping his mind on his computer search. Daria was wearing a soft pink blouse and a simple gray skirt that ended at midthigh and attracted his gaze like a bee to pollen. He kept thinking about their lovemaking, her legs tucked over his. He was pretty sure that Daria wanted to forget they’d ever made love, that she didn’t want to attach any special significance to what they’d done, but he wanted to remember every lusty moment. Just the recollection of her breasts made him hard all over again. Her sensuality hadn’t just stunned him, it had swept him away in a thundercloud of desire he’d never forget.
“Ryker?”
From the tone of Daria’s voice he figured that she’d called his names several times and he hadn’t heard until now.
“Yeah.”
“How do we justify interrupting Cindy’s Sunday morning?”
“We don’t.”
Daria had wanted to call first. But he didn’t want Cindy to prepare for their questions. He wanted her off guard.
“Apartment 4B. Here we are.”
Ryker rang the bell and slipped his arm through Daria’s. He liked having an excuse to touch her. Liked breathing in her sweet scent, liked the feel of her against his side. And he especially liked the warm feeling that accompanying her gave him.
A sleepy-eyed redhead answered the door. When she recognized Daria, she stepped back, her eyes widening with surprise. “Ms. Harrington? And you must be Ryker Stevens, the new accountant.”
Ryker took the open door as an invitation to enter. The messy apartment reeked of old wine, stale pizza and smoke. Yesterday’s newspaper lay on the couch, one page neatly folded to the story of Elizabeth’s death and Peter’s close escape. Cindy saw him notice the article and she turned white.
Her reaction didn’t fit. Why was she worried that they’d caught her reading about Harrington Bouquet’s employee and someone she probably knew? Curiosity was normal. That she wanted to conceal her curiosity probably meant she had something to hide, but what?
“We wanted to ask you a few questions,” Daria told her designer and head of customer service.
“The police already did.” Cindy’s voice raised in defiance. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Of course you haven’t,” Ryker told her, trying to calm her defensiveness. “We were just wondering about the purchase of your house.”
Cindy frowned at him then looked to Daria for an explanation. “Excuse me? I don’t understand.”
“You never told me about buying a house,” Daria prodded gently.
“You never asked.”
“Are you moving into the suburbs?” Daria asked.
“I haven’t decided. I may just rent the place to cover the payments.”
Ryker made his voice hard, hoping she’d answer without thinking too much. “Where did you get the money for the down payment?”
“That’s none of your business,” Cindy snapped, her posture defensive.
“Maybe. Maybe not. If that down payment was a payoff—”
“For what? Murder? You think I…” Cindy threw her arms into the air in disgust. “Why would I poison—”
“For money?” Ryker pushed her harder.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why don’t you just tell us where you got the down payment and you can avoid the police coming back here to ask you all over again,” Ryker suggested.
Cindy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”
“I was hoping you’d help me out because you wanted to.” Daria spoke softly. “I only came here so I could narrow down the suspects and cross you off the list. You have to admit the big down payment in your bank account two weeks before my sister’s death looks suspicious.”
“How do you know what’s in my bank account?” Cindy countered.
Ryker took out his cell phone. “Look, you can cooperate, or I can call Detective O’Brien, and you can explain everything to him.”
Cindy looked from him to Daria again as if her boss was going to help her out. “If you must know, I inherited the money from my great-aunt.”
“What’s her name?” Ryker asked.
“Ruth Ann Semore.” Cindy looked him straight in the eye. “She died about a year ago, and it took this long for her estate to go through probate.”
Daria sounded both puzzled and hurt. “How come you never mentioned your windfall or the house?”
“Because I didn’t want you to think that just because I might move out of the city I wouldn’t be working the same hours.”
Cindy had been afraid of losing her job? Ryker didn’t buy it. And something bothered him about her statement.
As they left Cindy’s building and headed toward Daria’s car, he spoke his doubts
aloud. “Cindy didn’t want me going to the police.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want them to know she smokes pot. I saw a five-leafed plant in the corner…”
“Maybe. But I saw Cindy’s tax returns. I can’t be positive without another look, but I think that last year she reported a gift from the estate.”
Daria squeezed his hand tightly. “So she inherited the money?”
“Yes. But the amount she reported to the IRS was about ten times smaller than the down payment on her home.” He’d bet his new hard drive that Cindy Parks was lying.
Chapter Ten
Content to let Ryker drive her car, Daria leaned back and closed her eyes. She didn’t enjoy investigating the personal lives of her employees, but she liked even less the idea of spending the rest of her life in jail for a crime she didn’t commit. Yet, even if she proved her innocence, she suspected some of her business relationships might never again be the same.
Her life would never be the same again without her sister. But it would be an added burden to discover they’d been betrayed by an employee and a friend.
And Cindy’s attitude had been downright hostile. Without Ryker’s steady presence beside her, she might not have had the guts to shoulder her way inside. She would have backed off the conversation much earlier, and she certainly wouldn’t have questioned Cindy about the down payment. Daria would have been more focused on assuring her employee that commuting into the city would be fine with her as long as it didn’t affect Cindy’s job performance.
Daria had to stop thinking like the businesswoman she was and figure out who had killed the people closest to her. Her mind kept skittering away from the subject, just as it did when she thought about making love to Ryker. While she didn’t exactly regret her actions, she didn’t want to think about her feelings either.
She much preferred to believe that making love to him had been an aberration in her behavior that she could just remember fondly, and that meant nothing important. Only, she couldn’t forget the way his hands had felt on her bottom, or how the heat in his eyes had made her feel so feminine. She absolutely didn’t even want to consider that maybe the great sex had been because her feelings toward Ryker were changing.
Her cell phone rang, and she almost didn’t answer, but she feared Peter could have taken a turn for the worse. He’d hurt her badly when he’d refused to speak to her, but at least he hadn’t openly accused her of trying to poison him. Yet.
Opening her eyes, she plucked the phone out of her purse. “Hello?”
“Can you meet me at Sour Pickles in twenty minutes?” Mike Brannigan’s voice sounded harried, and she hit the speaker option so Ryker could listen. She knew Ryker wanted to pop in unexpectedly on Sam next, but Mike was also a suspect, and he sounded determined to talk to her.
“I’m running a few errands. Can this wait?” she asked. Strange how she no longer found the executive attractive. Compared to Ryker, he was downright annoying, even if they did share similar interests, even if they did hang out in the same social circles.
“It’s important.”
She restrained a sigh of exasperation. “Can’t you tell me over the phone?”
“I’d rather not.”
Did he think someone was listening? Who?
Beside her, Ryker nodded agreement and she changed her mind. “Okay, Mike. We’ll be there—”
“Who’s we?” Mike’s voice rose with suspicion.
“Ryker and me.”
“Fine. See you in twenty.”
Daria dropped the phone back into her purse. “He sounded odd. Mike is usually smooth and charming. Not much throws him off center.” And he hadn’t seemed to mind that Ryker would be accompanying her—so who hadn’t he wanted to come with her?
Ryker smoothly avoided a jaywalker. “Any chance Cindy might have just called Mike?”
“Why?”
“Well, if she didn’t inherit all that money from her great-aunt like she claims, maybe Mike Brannigan paid her off.”
“I don’t think they know one another.”
“According to computer records, Mike and Cindy are first cousins.”
“I didn’t know. Can you find out who wrote the check she deposited into her account?”
“That kind of digging is tough, but it can be done.” Ryker turned left at the light and merged into traffic. “Mike could have offered a stranger a bribe, but it’s odd that neither one of them ever mentioned their relationship to you. Her mother’s brother is his father.”
She sighed. “It seems there’s a lot I don’t know about my employees.” And a lot she didn’t know about herself. She found the entire situation upsetting, uncomfortable and distasteful. But the necessity of continuing the investigation kept her from voicing her opinion.
While Daria wasn’t naive enough to believe that people were always just what they seemed, she found it unsettling to learn that no one was what she’d first believed. Not even Ryker. When she’d hired him, she thought she’d get the tough, military type. She hadn’t considered that he had a gentle side, a playful side or that he could be so considerate about her feelings.
And she hadn’t figured on becoming so attached to him or so comfortable around him. He had a quiet way of showing support and yet he never failed to step in with an air of command when the situation warranted it. However, he was just as comfortable sitting back and allowing her to take charge, like holding completely still while she seduced him.
She still couldn’t believe she’d acted so boldly. And yet, she’d felt at ease doing so with him. While she wanted to blame her behavior on stress, she suspected that was a cop-out. But with everything else going on, she couldn’t handle delving too deeply into her own fragile feelings. Normally she would have saved those kinds of thoughts to share with Fallon or Elizabeth. At the double loss her heart clenched with grief and she renewed her determination to find their killer.
Ahead of them a taxi cut off a garbage truck. Ryker swerved to the right to avoid the fender bender. He seemed terribly eager to get through the intersection. As the light turned from green to yellow to red, he stepped on the gas, then checked his rearview mirror.
She released her death grip on the door. “We really have plenty of time. Despite Mike’s impatience, he’ll wait if we’re a few minutes late.”
“See that champagne sedan behind us?”
She started to turn in her seat and her gray skirt notched up an inch. She tugged it down.
“Use the mirror,” he instructed. “That car went through the red light, and he’s changed lanes several times right after we did.”
She would never have noticed. But now a chill shimmied down her back. “You think that car is following us?”
“This might be the break we need.”
She was trying not to voice her fears, but he sounded pleased with the danger, like a kid who’d just unwrapped a special Christmas toy. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to stop short at the next light. I’ll get out and take a look. See who’s driving.”
“That’s the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard,” she muttered. “Why can’t you check the license plate?”
“It’s in the rear. That car isn’t going to let me slip behind him.”
“Suppose they shoot you?”
“I’m glad to hear you’re worried about me. I was beginning to think you didn’t care.”
“If you die on me, hiring another investigator will be inconvenient—and besides, I’ll probably get blamed for your murder.”
“How touching.”
“I’m nixing your plan.”
He raised an eyebrow, and she could tell he was quite amused. “Really?”
“I hired you. You take orders from me.”
“Darling, you just go on believing that if it makes you feel better.”
His patronizing tone irritated her. She grabbed her cell phone from her purse, checked the number on the business card the detective had given her, then dialed. She spoke in a rus
h, relieved that the next few lights stayed green and that Ryker continued to drive.
“Detective O’Brien, this is Daria Harrington. There’s a champagne-colored car tailing us down Forty-Second Street.”
“No need to worry, Ms. Harrington. I’m following you.” His tone sounded sheepish and wry. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t run any more red lights.”
She lifted the phone up to Ryker’s mouth. This time she heard a definite chuckle. Damn him for enjoying himself when her stomach remained in knots.
“Learning anything useful, Detective?” Ryker asked dryly.
“It occurred to me that if someone killed Daria’s sister, and tried to kill her brother, that same someone might also come after her.”
Daria took back the phone and spoke into the speaker. “So kind of you to be concerned about me, Detective. Any luck on finding my missing computer from the evidence room?”
“Not yet. You might be interested in knowing that your brother refused police protection.”
“And why would I find that interesting? I already know we Harringtons like our privacy.”
“Since he survived, I just thought that maybe the killer might try again.”
“You really think Peter’s in danger?”
“The real question is…what do you think? Is your brother in danger?”
His implication was clear. He was asking her if she intended to try to poison Peter again.
Angry, Daria hung up the phone, convinced that the detective was following her to catch her trying to kill her brother. Obviously Ryker’s credentials only went so far. If the detective was tailing them, he couldn’t be looking for the real killer.
“Don’t pay attention to him,” Ryker told her. “He’s just doing his job.”
THE SOUR PICKLE was a tiny delicatessen crowded with tourists and shoppers on their lunch hour. The smells of freshly baked bread and salami made Ryker’s mouth water. For some reason, being around Daria spiked his appetite for food and for sex. He wanted her again, wished they could forget about this meeting, go back to her place and spend the afternoon in her whirlpool. The truth was he didn’t want to share her with Mike. He wanted to keep her to himself.
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